Mally the Maker and the Queen in the Quilt

by Leah Day

  “Patch? What are you doing here? How did you get so big?”

  The cat wheezed softly and rolled over to his side, bringing his huge paws down with a thud that shook leaves from the trees. His eyes were squeezed shut and his ears drawn back tight to his head.

  Mally didn’t know what to do. He was clearly in a lot of pain and she’d never had to help anyone who was hurt before. That’s what parents did. For the first time since she entered Quilst, Mally missed her mother. Before Grandma disappeared, Mama had always known exactly how to make the hurts stop hurting.

  Mally patted his cheeks and stroked his ears, trying to help him relax while Ms. Bunny scrambled over his side to survey the damage on his back. The little doll wrapped her thin arms around her body and cringed.

  Mally’s mind filled with images of broken bones and bloody gashes. She’d seen Jamie Walker break his arm on the playground in second grade. She could still remember the unnatural way his arm bent in the middle, like the bone was split and about to poke through his skin. Even now, just remembering that day made her want to throw up.

  Mally took a deep breath and slowly walked around the cat’s huge head to see the damage for herself. She had to weave her way around several thread trees, then tuck herself between the cat and the curving hill at their backs. Finally, she made it all the way around and, like Ms. Bunny, she couldn’t help but shudder at the sight.

  Patch’s back was a mess of frayed fabrics and tangled threads. A massive split began near his neck and ran to the base of his tail. His shoulders had clearly taken the brunt of the impact. The fabric had all but disintegrated in that area and his white stuffing littered the ground. While it wasn’t as gory as broken bones and blood, it still felt intrinsically wrong. That stuff is supposed to stay inside, and no one is supposed to see it.

  Mally ran her fingers down his back, gently pulling the fabrics back together. There was so much damage and her fingers already ached from stitching the wings. Patch lay very still, and the little girl looked at Ms. Bunny for help.

  “Do you think we can fix this?” she whispered.

  Ms. Bunny looked over the massive cat’s back and sighed. “Yes, if you think he bears fixing.”

  “Of course, we should help him!” Mally said. “He saved us. He must have jumped and caught us as we fell.”

  “But you wouldn’t have been in that mountain room in the first place if it wasn’t for him,” Ms. Bunny pointed out. “I think it’s more important we head for the door, as fast as possible. You need to get home. Everything else will have to stitch itself back together.”

  “I can’t leave him like this,” Mally said as Patch let out another shuddering breath. “I have to do something.”

  She didn’t wait for Ms. Bunny to answer. She slipped out of her tattered wings and bookbag and pulled out her sewing box. It was a mess from their hasty exit from the mountain, but she quickly located a needle, the little blade, and a spool of thread.

  “I must have packed this spool of orange thread just for you, Patch,” she said, cutting off a long length. “I’ll be able to sew this up and you won’t hardly be able to see the stitches.”

  “Unless your handwork skills have significantly improved in one day, I doubt that,” Patch wheezed.

  “Would you rather me stitch you with glittery gold thread instead? I could have you shining like the sun and all my horrible stitches will show all the time.”

  “No! Please, no glitter,” Patch begged. “Orange thread will be fine and I’m sure your stitches will be perfectly adequate, little Maker.”

  Mally kneeled next to his back and pulled the edges of the fabrics together. She chewed her lip, trying to decide how to stitch the seam. She inserted her needle upwards, but that left the thread tail on the outside. She pulled out the stitch and tried again.

  Ms. Bunny suddenly appeared at her side and silently took the needle from her.

  “Start like this,” she said, and slid the needle down through just the lower ripped fabric to hide the knot and thread tail inside Patch’s body. Then she inserted the needle into both pieces, pulling the raw edges tightly together. She repeated the same movement again, stitching through the two ripped fabrics in a downward direction so the thread looped over the seam.

  A low rumble sounded in the distance and Mally jerked her head up at the noise.

  “You need to get out of here,” Patch said in a low voice. “That’ll be her snarls. They will find you and make you wish you’d never been made. Go.”

  He tried to stand, his paws shaking violently, but Mally threw herself across his back and forced him to lay down.

  “What is a snarl?” The ground quaked slightly and several large leaves fell from the trees.

  “You saw her rip fabric in the mountain?” Patch panted.

  “Yes, she made a horrible thread spider and threw it at me. I’ll never look at broken threads the same way again,” Mally said with a shudder.

  “Imagine that times a thousand. Run as far and fast as you can.” Patch’s face contorted in pain and he shrank to the size of a small horse right before her eyes. His paws, tail, and body deflated like air being let out of a balloon.

  “How are you doing that? Can you become any size you want?” Mally asked in wonder, then the reality of what was coming hit her and she focused on the problem at hand. “We can’t run fast enough to get away from those things. We need to hide.”

  “I agree.” Ms. Bunny stood staring at the woods surrounding them with her little paws planted on her hips. “You work on that cat and I’ll work on this. I think we can add more thread and leaves to these trees and hide right here.”

  They had luckily fallen against a hill and a small hollow hid them to the back. Several trees curved around the slope, forming a tiny clearing where Patch, Mally, and Ms. Bunny were sitting. The thin tree trunks were luckily spaced close together. Large leaves filled the canopies in all different shades of brown and green. Vines of thickly spun yarn hung from their upper branches.

  Ms. Bunny jumped into action, climbing the tree to pull down fabrics and rearrange the vines to fill in the biggest gaps between the trees. The noise sounded in the distance again and the ground trembled.

  Mally wiped her sweaty hands off on her jeans and tried to resume her stitching. Menda was already after them. What in the world had Grandma done to make her hate her so much? Why did she want to hurt them? She dismissed those questions for now and set to her task of fixing Patch’s ripped up back.

  She held the edges of the frayed fabrics with one hand and pulled the needle through with the other. The thread overlapped the torn seam, locking the fabrics together securely. It didn’t look very nice because her stitches sloped weirdly to the left. She’d never mended anything in her life, but she didn’t think the cat was in a position to be picky.

  When she ran across spots where stuffing was leaking out, she gently pressed it back into his body and pulled the fabrics out around it. Patch shifted uncomfortably, but other than that, he remained completely still and silent.

  While her stitches still left a lot to be desired, she could see improvement as she worked along the tear. His stuffing also made it easy to see when she’d made a stitch too big. If white fluff stuck out Mally knew that spot needed an extra stitch.

  All the while, Ms. Bunny flittered around them, pulling down vines and covering them randomly with large leaves to block off their area. Mally could no longer see anything past the thick curtain surrounding them.

  “Of course, you’re only made from the brightest, most challenging color to hide,” the doll grumbled, turning her attention to covering up Patch’s body. She carried over armfuls of green and brown fabric leaves and began spreading them out over his orange patchwork in a single layer.

  “Trust me, rabbit, no one hates my colors more than me,” Patch said.

  “Stop moving so I can cover your he
ad, Chatty Catty,” Ms. Bunny snapped and Mally glanced up to see her place the last leaf fabrics over his face. He was completely covered and almost impossible to see, even from Mally’s vantage point.

  Another rumble shook the ground, much closer now and Mally jumped. Ms. Bunny’s ears were on high alert, standing up straight off her head to nearly double her height. If the situation were not so dire, the sight would have been comical.

  Mally caught flashes of blue and gray through Ms. Bunny’s camouflage screen and she ducked down to hide behind Patch’s body. Ms. Bunny burrowed under a pile of leaves nearby.

  The ground trembled under her feet and Mally realized the rumbling noise was the sound of threads in the quilt rubbing together, straining under the weight of the encroaching monster. It came closer and closer until it was right next to them, rolling down the hill to their left.

  The noises in the woods went suddenly quiet and Mally held her breath. She peeked out from around Patch, but she couldn’t see anything past the first row of trees. She heard a strange sound, like a voice whispering, but she was too far away to make out what was being said.

  “What’s it doing?” Mally hissed.

  “Shut up and don’t move,” Patch growled, and she froze, staring at the spot where she guessed the creature had stopped, less than fifteen feet from their hiding place. Sweat trickled down her back and she had to stuff her hands behind her knees to stop them from shaking.

  The ground suddenly lurched and Mally fell against Patch’s back. The cat let out an involuntary groan, but the rumble had resumed. The snarl was rolling away. Mally let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  “I admit, I’m impressed with your work, rabbit,” Patch said, shaking the fabric squares off his face. “I believe you just outsmarted a snarl. That’s quite a feat.” He was looking at Ms. Bunny with something close to admiration on his face.

  “Now that it’s passed, you can answer some questions,” Ms. Bunny demanded, extricating herself from the pile of leaves. “Why did you lead Mally into that trap, and why did you save her just now? How can you change your size and what was that thing out there?”

  Patch looked at Mally and Ms. Bunny for a long moment, then closed his eyes.

  Ms. Bunny was incensed. She stood, barely taller than Mally’s knee, her skinny arms crossed firmly over her chest, her ears sticking straight up to give her more height.

  “I need answers, cat, or I’ll just have to draw my own conclusions.” Ms. Bunny began pacing the clearing as she listed Patch’s offenses: “You tricked us into following you up the mountain. We got trapped by a maniacal doll calling herself a queen and carted off to a prison that we only barely escaped. Care to explain how you fit in with this, or should I guess?”

  Patch didn’t reply so she continued, “My bet is you work for her. Go on, try to deny it! Are you her pet too?”

  The cat’s eyes remained closed, and his ears pull back tight against his big head. He held himself rigidly, as if expecting to be hit. He stayed like that for a full minute before Ms. Bunny threw her paws in the air and stalked away in disgust.

  Mally looked down at the needle clenched in her fist and at the torn fabric still waiting to be stitched along his back. Patch had saved her. He had also gotten her captured, but he had saved her. That was enough.

  Mally pressed her hand to his back and felt him jump slightly, then settle back down as she resumed stitching his ripped fabrics together. She heard Ms. Bunny muttering under her breath, but eventually she cooled down and joined her with a second needle filled with orange thread. They worked silently, slowly pulling the fabrics together and tucking the cat’s stuffing back in.

  As she stitched towards his shoulders it became harder and harder to pull the fabrics together. Every time she tried to stitch, a clump of frayed threads would break off into her hands. The fabric had split in six directions leaving a massive gap where stuffing leaked out the worst. Ms. Bunny finished a seam curling around Patch’s side and she slid down to land with a soft thump at Mally’s feet.

  “What do I do, Ms. Bunny? The fabric just keeps pulling apart every time I try to take a stitch.”

  “I think we’ll have to add more fabric,” Ms. Bunny said, gently pressing against the stuffing to try to bring the edges of the patchwork together. Patch’s breathing hitched, but he didn’t say anything.

  Mally checked the sewing box, but they had used all the fabric scraps she’d brought to sew the wings. She searched the ground and scooped up an assortment of leaves Ms. Bunny had pulled from the trees for camouflage. But only one was big enough to fill in the huge gap. It was unfortunately dark green and clashed badly with his orange fabric.

  Mally handed Ms. Bunny the cloth and she spread it out over his back. It was the perfect size to fit the gap, but the color was ugly when paired with orange and yellow. Ms. Bunny moved carefully, tucking the material in place so it covered his exposed stuffing. Almost immediately Patch began to breathe easier.

  He shifted as if to stand and Mally grabbed for his back. “Don’t get up, Patch! We’ve just tucked the piece in, but it’s not stitched in place.”

  “You’ve done enough. We’re even. I’ll see to the rest,” he said, his words coming out in short bursts as he tried to pull himself to his feet. But the gaping hole between his shoulder blades widened and soon he was gasping in pain.

  “You made fun of me for asking stupid questions when we first met. Well, now you’re acting stupid,” Mally said. “Lay back down and let me finish the job. I gotta get my thousand stitches in somehow.”

  The cat had no choice but to obey. He sank down, curling his tail around his body and rested his head on his paws. Mally smoothed the green fabric back in place so it covered his stuffing perfectly.

  Then Ms. Bunny showed Mally how to pull the tattered remnants of his back over the green material. The fabrics were so badly frayed, Ms. Bunny had to turn the edges to the inside. She pressed her paws against the orange fabric, showing Mally the crease she’d made.

  “See? I watched your grandma applique the mountains and she folded the edges under just like this. She used an iron to crease the folds, but this will have to do. Don’t want me to take an iron to your back now do you, Chatty Catty?”

  “I’d love to see you try, rabbit.”

  Ms. Bunny demonstrated how to stitch along the folded fabric, then into the green patch, then back into the fold. It was the hardest thing Mally had stitched so far because you had to insert the needle at a special angle in the fold. She struggled and fought with the fabric and thread, becoming more and more frustrated with every stitch.

  “Argh! I can’t do it!” Mally said, throwing her hands up as yet again the stitches twisted and the fabrics bunched together sloppily. She squeezed out from behind Patch and stomped off to the edge of their protected clearing.

  “Giving up already?” Patch asked. “I’m surprised you lasted this long.”

  “For someone who could barely breathe without our help, you sure are low on gratitude.” Ms. Bunny muttered. “How about encouraging her instead?”

  “Encourage what? Her tears and tantrums? I prefer not to reward bad behavior.”

  “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here! It’s really hard to stitch like this and it keeps messing up!” Mally rubbed her eyes furiously. “I just need a break. All I can see is orange and green fabric and my terrible looking stitches.”

  “That’s fine, d–” Ms. Bunny started, but Patch interrupted her.

  “Get back to work, little Maker. Between those disintegrating wings and what I can only guess you’ve stitched on my back, I’d estimate you’ve made two hundred decent stitches today. You have a long way to go before you’re entitled for this to feel easy or even fun.”

  Mally shot to her feet, her face blazing. “I think you’re just a big orange jerk!” she yelled.

  The ground qua
ked suddenly and Mally lost her balance and fell to her knees. A roll of thunder followed, growing in volume. Another snarl was coming!

  Patch’s paw shot out, quick as lightning and pulled her into his side. Ms. Bunny snatched up an armful of leaves and scattered them over his face.

  They all waited, barely daring to breathe as the monster rolled past. Mally realized Patch’s yellow paws were uncovered and practically glowing against the brown trees. Don’t see us, just roll by, she thought, frantically. Don’t see us, just roll by. Please, please, just go away.

  It must have been listening to her thoughts because it obeyed perfectly. The snarl rumbled off through the trees and Mally let out a deep sigh of relief as the ground stilled.

  “That was close,” she said, crawling out from between Patch’s paws. She met the cat’s steady gaze, then looked up to find Ms. Bunny’s frightened face peeking over his shoulder. “I’m sorry I quit. I’ll try harder, I promise. I never thought there would be anything bad in Grandma’s quilt.”

  “Bad doesn’t cover it, little Maker. It’s not safe for anyone as long as the Ripping Witch rules,” Patch said, closing his eyes with a grimace. “I’ve seen what she can do, and I know she’s after that Maker, your grandma. Take my word for it, you don’t want to get in the middle of that.”

  Mally wanted to ask what he knew about Menda and Grandma, but Patch closed his eyes, clearly dismissing her.

  “Time to finish this stitching, dear,” Ms. Bunny said crisply, holding up her needle. “Let’s fix this cat and go home.”

  * * * * *

  It felt like hours later when she knotted her thread on the last seam. She had struggled through every stitch, twisting her thread, making a mess of the fabric, but eventually she’d gotten the hang of the tricky stitch.

  They sat back to survey their handiwork and Mally clapped her hands in delight. Crazy orange patchwork outlined a dark green six-sided star centered between the cat’s shoulders. Even with the clashing fabrics, it was beautiful.